Bad profilers and serial killers
by FrancescaBoscorelli
Summary: AU in which Sherlock and Joan are together while the events of episode 1x14 took place. Part of the series "Moments.


**A/N: This is shorter than the others, I don't know why. Today I feel like nothing I write is good, I don't know why to be honest. **

**Anyways, thank you for reading and reviewing. I love you guise**

**Big hugs to my beta EuphoriaLily **

_**Spoilers: Episode 1x14**_

* * *

"I'm glad your bust was such a success last night but this place still smells like stripper." Joan told him, walking passed him into the kitchen to open a window.

"Does it?" He asked her

"Yeah." she responded. "Hey, your dock still clear today?"

"Sadly, yes."

"Well, my landlord called. I have to go to my apartment this morning. I think my sub letter had been throwing parties."

"I confess, Watson. I find your insistence on maintaining your own residence puzzling." Sherlock spoke. "You have been living with me for the past seven months, two of them in which we have been sleeping together. Why don't you embrace the fact that this is your new and hopefully permanent residency?"

"Because it's my sanctum sanctorum, and as much as I love living here with you and share our sleeping quarters, I love my apartment and having my own space."

"I hope you won't suddenly grow tired of me and decide to leave." Sherlock told her, moving slowly towards her, dropping the single stick he was holding to the floor in a quick motion.

"Why would I grow tired of you?" she asked him, sighing as he stepped towards her, his body in full contact with her.

"I can be quite infuriating, as you put it."

"And also quite charming."

"You know? Those dolly mops I ensnared last night," he whispered, pushing Joan's body against the kitchen counter as he spoke, his hands travelling slowly up her thigh, making her gasp in surprise, "their performance was quite invigorating."

"Really?" she spoke, her voice becoming a whisper as she felt his hands on her body.

"Oh yes. Made me think about all the things we could be doing right now." he told her, his face moving slowly towards her, his lips barely touching hers.

"Sherlock…I have to go." she moaned. He ignored her, kissing her slightly on the lips to then pull away quickly.

"Can your landlord wait? Or is it that important as to leave me…thinking about you, and us, together, in my room. All day long." he moaned, pulling her up to sit on the kitchen counter, each word sending shivers down her spine.

She sighed, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him impossibly closer to her body.

"I think he can wait" she whispered. Sherlock's lips crashing against hers in a passionate kiss.

.

.

.

"Oh, speaking of vermin." he said, looking out the window at the station. Joan turned her chair around, following his line of sight; Agent Drummond walked quickly, she glared at Sherlock before disappearing behind an office .

"What is it with you and that woman?" Joan asked him, turning around to face him "It's obviously more than hating profilers."

"If you're asking if we've had sex, the answer is yes, obviously." Sherlock responded, though he sounded upset by just talking about it.

"Oh, so she's an ex?" Joan asked him, amused. She being the second woman she knew in Sherlock's life, she thought it was rather fascinating.

"Hardly. We had an arrangement while she was in London, similar to the one I had with women here in New York before you and I became an item." he explained. "Preformed the act of love loudly and repeatedly without any actual love or even any like."

"I get it didn't end very well?"

"Obviously not." he responded. "And you seem oddly fascinated by someone I used to have intercourse with."

"If you're wondering whether I'm jealous, the answer is no." Joan told him calmly. "Unless you want me to be."

"No. There's nothing more than mutual hate between this woman and I, so there is no need for you to be worried in any way."

"Alright then."

She knew there was something else, but by the way he kept staring at the spot she had been standing and the anger showing in his eyes, she decided not to question him any further. For now.

.

.

.

"I know why you don't like her." she told him while he sat on the floor of their house, surrounded by pictures and information about the case. "'The Deductionist', an article she wrote for a psychiatric journal ten years ago, about a police consultant she met while in London. You seemed genuinely upset by her today so I googled her and found the article."

"When I first met Kathryn, she showed a modicum of potential as an investigator." Sherlock explained. "So aside from our extracurricular exertions, I tried to tutor her in my methods. Little did I know she was merely interested in gaining understanding of the inner workings of my mind."

"She was profiling you."

"Well that's one word for it, yes. She predicted my struggles with addiction, I did not."

"Is that was this is all about? That she got one thing right about you?"

"It was, as you might recall for the piece, one of several prognostications she made regarding my future. One of several method is which I might self-destruct. And is she was right about one…"

"It means nothing." Joan interrupted him. "Just because she wrote something, which you believed she was fair right, doesn't make it entirely true. You're clean now, you have a life, and this is far from self-destruction."

"Yes well…" He got up quickly, and even though when she reached out for him he'd allowed her, he still walked away.

.

.

.

"I'm going to bed." she spoke, approaching him as he sat in his favorite armchair by his desk. "Are you coming?"

"I know that Kathryn Drummond is obsessed with her work." he spoke, ignoring her question. "She prides herself in the accuracy of her profiles. But to think she would have gone so far as to destroy a family…"

"Did you ever consider the possibility that she lied about you in the article?" she asked him, taking a few steps closer towards him.

"She got a good deal right, didn't she?"

"She predicted your drug problem, so what? You got clean, picked up your life right where you left it. And you even meet someone, made a friend and something more, something she claimed was virtually impossible." she spoke. He watched her with those adorable puppy dog eyes, the one he used when he felt lost and confused. He grabbed her hand as she spoke, pulling her towards him. He sat upright, giving her enough space for her to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hand immediately around his waist. "I'm obviously talking about me."

"That much I guessed."

"All I'm saying is that just because she got a few details right, doesn't mean she knows you or that you should take her seriously."

"I know." he whispered.

"I love you." she told him, making him smile. "I'm pretty sure she would have never guessed that."

The end


End file.
